Everything She Wants
by BiggestDickEver
Summary: It'd be a dirty little trick for God to play to make such a gorgeous creature such a dick.


**Title:** Everything She Wants

 **Summary:** It'd be a dirty little trick for God to play to make such a gorgeous creature such a dick.

 **Pairing:** Bella/Edward

 **Rating:** M

 **Disclaimer:** The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

 **Everything She Wants**

Edward Cullen.

Well, _Mr. Cullen_ to me. He's my English teacher.

This is Mr. Cullen's fourth year teaching senior English at Lincoln Park High School in Chicago, Illinois. I first noticed him about three weeks into my freshman year when he cut in front of me in the cafeteria line. Now, most teachers do that — but they usually say "excuse me." The man was so drop dead gorgeous — like, he could be modeling for GQ or Dior gorgeous — that I didn't even mind his rudeness. Much.

"Mr. Newton," he says in a derisive voice as he sets the paper down on my classmate's desk. "Keep it up and you'll be asking, 'Do you want fries with that?' for the rest of your life."

Turns out that initial rudeness was a precursor of things to come — Mr. Cullen is a huge dick.

Since Mr. Cullen already had his Masters in Education, he was a couple of years older than most new teachers when he started at Lincoln Park. Rumor had it that he was only teaching high school until he completed his PhD and could get a job at a university.

Fully expecting that he'd be gone before my senior year, I was thrilled when I received my schedule and learned that I'd be in his AP English class. Not just so I could be in the hot teacher's class, but also because I've always loved reading and classic literature and plan to major in something English-related in college. I felt like I'd really be on the same page as him.

Sure, I'd heard the rumors that he wasn't much of a people person, but I'd dismissed them as sour grapes from students who didn't apply themselves. Surely he'd respect the students who put forth a good effort in his class.

"Miss Swan," he nods, setting last week's essay on my desk. I look at the grade marked in red ink in the top right corner — A. There is no such thing as a compliment from Mr. Cullen; at best there's the lack of an insult.

Once all of our papers have been returned, he begins today's lesson. As always, I try not to stare at his handsome face, lest he catch me drooling. In my attempt to look anywhere _but_ his face, my gaze

travels downward over his crisp white shirt to the blue pants he's wearing.

And that's when I see it.

The bulge in his pants extends beyond the crotch area into the left leg of his pants. Holy shit, Mr. Cullen has a huge dick!

I can't stop staring. I've never seen a dick that big before — outside of internet porn. OK, _fine_ , I've never had a boyfriend, so it's not like I've seen any unclothed dick in person, but I mean… I've never noticed something that massive in a guy's pants before.

It's mesmerizing. I just can't stop staring for the rest of the period. It's even right at eye level! When the bell rings to signal the end of class, my best friend, Angela, has to tap me on the shoulder to get me up and out of my seat.

Once we've chosen our lunches from the cafeteria, we join the rest of the gang at our usual table. "Oh. My. God. Did you guys see the bulge in Mr. Cullen's pants today?" Jessica asks before we've even sat down.

"You saw it too? I couldn't stop staring!" I gush.

"Man, oh man, what I wouldn't give for a ride on that," Lauren says, licking her ruby red lips. I've gone to school with her since third grade and she's a nice girl — but Lauren is pretty much the school slut. I try not to roll my eyes at her dramatics.

"All right, all right, knock it off," Mike yells in exasperation, placing his hands over his ears. "I do not need to hear about that asshole's dick. I'm trying to eat my lunch here. Jesus."

Angela looks at him sympathetically across the table. "I wish Mr. Cullen could be nicer to you."

Mike sighs. "I know I'm in over my head in that class. I didn't want to take AP English since it's never been my best subject, but my dad insisted that I sign up for every available AP class in the hopes that we can cut down on college expenses."

"Still, he doesn't have to be rude about it," she continues.

"It's only September. Maybe he'll lighten up as the school year progresses and he gets to know us," I suggest.

"Fat chance," Tyler scoffs. "My brother was in his class two years ago; said he's always a dick."

I frown upon hearing that. Mr. Cullen is so good looking that I'd like to believe he's a good person inside that hard exterior. It'd be a dirty little trick for God to play to make such a gorgeous creature — with a huge dick — such a dick.

* * *

Once I've finished my homework that evening, I go online to look for a new fan fiction story to read. I mean, I enjoy classic literature as much as anyone, but now that I have to read books like _A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man_ for class, I don't want to think so hard on my own time.

My current favorite fandom to read is _Vampire Diaries_ ; I'm a huge Delena fan. As I browse through the available stories, I come across a WIP that looks interesting. It's an AU where not only is Stefan Salvatore a student at Mystic Falls High School with Elena Gilbert and all of her friends, but his brother Damon has taken a job there as a _teacher_.

I'm sure you can understand why it appeals to me.

Though Mr. Cullen's hair is more of a reddish-brown color and his eyes are a stunning green rather than blue like Ian Somerhalder's, it's easy to picture him in my mind as Damon as I read the story. Damon even acts like a dick, just like Mr. Cullen, though he has more of a sarcastic wit than I've ever seen my teacher display.

Elena is obsessed with her teacher, frequently fantasizing about having sex with him. My eyes widen as I read some of her more, er, _vivid_ , fantasies. As a virgin, I've gotten quite an education from fan fiction, and I've often wondered if sex is really as awesome as it's portrayed. I mean, I doubt every guy out there is a sex god, but having a huge dick must give Mr. Cullen a leg up. Wink wink.

By the time I've reached the end of the published chapters, teacher Damon has noticed Elena's crush on him and I feel like they're this close to sealing the deal. I can hardly wait for the next update.

Crawling into bed later, my mind swims with images from the story I just read. And that's the first night I dream of Edward Cullen.

* * *

Unbelievable. Mr. Cullen has actually assigned us to memorize Hamlet's famous soliloquy — all 366 words — and recite it in front of the classroom. For a _grade_. Who does that?

While I'm a good student, memorizing has never been my strong suit. Hell, I still don't know the periodic table, though I can recite the Presidents in order.

For a week, I memorize five lines at a time until I seem to have it down. At least, I can say it in my head; I get tongue-tied every time I try to say it out loud. And I drive my divorced father nuts by forcing him to listen for any mistakes when he'd rather be watching the Cubs.

On the day of our speeches, I'm so nervous that my hands are sweating, which never happens to me. Mostly I want to impress my hot teacher, but at the very least, I'd like him not to make me look stupid in front of my peers.

I'd really like to go first — partially to get this shitstorm over with, but also so I don't get the lines mixed up if anyone before me screws up. Before I can volunteer to start us off, Mr. Cullen announces that we'll be going alphabetically. Of course, with the last name of Swan, I'm pretty darn close to the end. At least I'm not Angela Weber, who will have to sit through 22 other monologues before it's her turn.

I try to zone out and not really listen to anyone else's speech. I can tell from Mr. Cullen's barbs that most of my classmates needed to practice more. As is his usual M.O., no one actually gets a "nice job" or anything like that, even if they've done well.

Once Jessica Stanley has returned to her seat, trying desperately to hold back her tears, I take a deep breath and walk to the front of the classroom. Everyone always says that you should picture your audience in their underwear if you're nervous about speaking in public, but given my situation here with Mr. Cullen, that's really not likely to help me.

"Whenever you're ready," Mr. Cullen directs, and closing my eyes, I begin.

 _To be, or not to be: that is the question:_

 _Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer_

 _The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,_

 _Or to take arms against a sea of troubles…_

Once I've recited the final line, I open my eyes and stand motionless, waiting for my teacher's

reaction. I don't think I screwed anything up, but I don't know anything anymore.

"You may sit down, Miss Swan."

That's it?! Seriously? Would he actually burst into flames if he gave anyone a compliment? Sighing, I return to my seat, relieved that this cruel and unusual punishment is finally over. I doubt this exercise helped in any way to prepare me for the Advanced Placement exam at the end of the year.

"Great job, Bella!" Angela smiles as we walk out of the classroom after her speech.

"Thanks," I reply shyly. "You did well too, judging from the lack of a reaction."

"I think I messed up a word or two, but he was nice enough not to comment," she laughs.

"Mr. Cullen? Nice?" I deadpan, making her laugh again.

* * *

"Stop tugging on your dress," Angela chastises me for about the fifth time as we stand inside the school gymnasium.

"It's just… I'm not used to showing so much cleavage." I look down, frowning at how much of my skin is showing.

"That's because you only got boobs within the last year," she laughs. "You look great, Bella. Seriously."

I don't know how I let Angela talk me into going to the homecoming dance… with her, since neither of us has a boyfriend. We went shopping for dresses a couple of weeks ago and I picked out a gorgeous midnight blue dress with a sweetheart neckline. The skirt is several inches above the knee in front, but much longer — nearly ankle length — in back.

"Oh, wow!" Angela suddenly exclaims. "Mr. Cullen is here as a chaperone."

My head immediately turns to follow her line of sight. I don't think I've ever seen him at a school function before, but it's definitely him, looking beyond hot in a sports coat and white shirt with the top couple of buttons undone.

"He looks like he's having so much fun," I note dryly.

"Tell me about it," she laughs.

The rest of our gang is here at the dance as well, though they managed to find dates. Jessica and Mike are dating each other now, but I'm not sure how long _that_ will last.

"Someone got to the punch bowl," Tyler says, walking over with his date, Samantha. He's got a red Solo cup full of the spiked punch in his hand.

"On Mr. Cullen's watch?" I ask.

Tyler wrinkles his nose. "That dick is here? Ugh."

About 15 minutes later, Ben Cheney walks over and asks Angela to dance with him. She looks at me to make sure I'm OK with it, and of course I encourage her to accept. She's only had a crush on the guy since sophomore year!

Once both couples have headed to the dance floor, I'm all alone. Bored, I decide to go sample some

of that spiked punch. I don't drink much, so I hope it's not too strong.

Drink in hand, I turn around to see Mr. Cullen looking my way, so on a whim, I decide to walk over and talk to him. "Hi, Mr. Cullen," I call as I approach. Damn, he looks even better up close. I can see a hint of chest hair peeking out of the top of his shirt, and he's wearing tight fitting jeans! I try not to stare or look for any sign of his, er, impressive appendage.

"Miss Swan."

At a loss for what to say next — I really should've thought this through a little more — I take a small sip from my cup, grimacing a bit at the strong taste of alcohol.

"The punch is spiked?" he asks angrily.

Shit! I stare at him wide-eyed. I don't want to get anyone here in trouble, but is there any point in lying when he could easily try it for himself?

"You don't have to admit it. I can see it all over your face."

"I-I don't know who spiked it," I stutter. "It's not that strong. I just wasn't expecting it," I add — a little white lie, but hopefully he'll buy it.

Frowning, he starts to walk toward the punch bowl.

"Wait! You don't want to be known as _that_ teacher, do you?" Thankfully, he does stop, raking his fingers through his hair as he stares down at me. Encouraged, I continue, "It's tradition for someone to spike the punch. It's not that big of a deal. Someone would have to drink an awful lot of it to get drunk."

"So just buzzed, right?" he jeers. "As if no one's ever done anything stupid when they're just buzzed."

I don't really know what to say to that. We're at a bit of a stand-off for a long moment before he sighs, leaning back against the wall.

"Shouldn't you be with your date?" Mr. Cullen asks suddenly.

"My date," I begin, using air quotes, "is Angela. And she's dancing with a guy she's had a crush on for two years."

I take another sip of my drink, without grimacing this time. And again we stand beside each other in silence, until I decide to woman-up and start an actual conversation with my hot teacher.

"So… rumor has it you're working on a PhD?"

He nods. "From Northwestern. I should have all of the requirements completed in the next couple of months."

"That's great," I smile genuinely. "And then you'll go teach at a university?"

"If anyone is hiring, yeah."

"Are high school students that bad?" I joke.

"I prefer to teach students who've voluntarily chosen my class and _want_ to be there. If all of my high school students were like you and your friend Angela, it might be a different story."

Is that… a _compliment_?! Squee!

"Angela is good at everything and plans to go to med school, but I'd really like to do something related to English in college. I don't think I'd want to teach, but… maybe journalism?" I shrug. "Too bad there's no career where you can just read books for a living."

Mr. Cullen smiles at me, and it's like a chorus of angels singing… seriously, I don't think I've seen this man smile before. It's gorgeous, and he seems like he's maybe not so much of a dick after all.

"Yeah, too bad," he agrees, and I smile back, feeling like we've got something special in common.

He looks me up and down, and maybe it's just my imagination, but it feels like his eyes rake over me, the way a guy's do when he's checking out a woman.

"It's a shame that you got all dressed up in your pretty dress and are spending your night talking to your teacher instead of dancing."

"Oh no," I chuckle. "I have two left feet. No one wants me to be out there dancing, trust me." Internally, I squeal again though — he said my dress is pretty!

"I doubt you're that bad."

"Oh no, trust me, I am!" I insist.

"Dancing isn't difficult; it's all in the leading," he replies. We make eye contact and… something about the way he's looking at me, I almost feel like he's saying _he_ would dance with me.

If only he weren't my teacher and we weren't at my high school's homecoming dance, that is.

It seems so intense that I look away, back across the gymnasium to where I see Angela standing with Mike and Jessica. I clear my throat, then look up at Mr. Cullen. "Um, my friends are off the dance floor now, so… Thank you for hanging out with me, and… thank you for not tossing the punch bowl," I add, hoping it's not a bad idea to bring it up again.

"I should be thanking you for brightening up my night," he says with a small smile. "Have fun with your friends."

Nodding at him, I reluctantly turn away, heading back to the gang.

"Why were you talking to Mr. Cullen?" Mike accosts me as soon as I get there.

I shrug. "Why not? I got bored hanging out by myself. He's really not that bad when you get him one-on-one."

"Right," he scoffs.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Angela says.

"Oh, no! I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It wasn't a hardship to talk to him at all. Now tell me about Ben…"

* * *

I have Spanish with Ms. Goff for my third period class, just before English. Once we've completed our exam, about a week after homecoming, she says that we can turn in our test papers and read quietly, so I do just that. Taking out my phone, I check Facebook and Instagram first, then my emails, nearly squealing out loud when I see a new Alert with an update to my favorite Delena story.

Wasting no time clicking on the link, I begin reading the latest chapter, wondering if this is the one

where they finally do the deed.

And… then the bell rings. Damnit! I should've checked my emails first.

I hurriedly slide my phone into the side of my purse and gather up my things to head to Mr. Cullen's classroom. As soon as I've sat down, I start to pull my phone out, but instead, Jessica, who sits in front of me, asks me a question about the book we're discussing today. By the time she's left me alone, Mr. Cullen has shut the door to begin class.

We're reading _Wuthering Heights_ now, which I've already read on my own multiple times. As we discuss the book, I sneakily slide my phone out of my purse when Mr. Cullen's back is turned, placing it on top of the open paperback. And then I begin to read.

" _What's this?" Damon asks, picking up the notebook where I've embarrassingly written Elena+Damon inside little hearts. "Mmmm… you've been a bad girl, Elena. I think you need to be punished."_

 _Yes, please, punish me, I think to myself. Pulling me from my seat, he grabs both sides of my blouse and tugs, exposing my lacy bra as the buttons go flying. Smirking at me, he reaches for my left nipple, squeezing and pulling through the lace until it's hard as a rock._

" _Bend over," he orders, and I quickly obey, leaning forward across my desk. I squeal as my teacher yanks down my underwear, hoisting my skirt up until I feel a cool breeze across my ass._

" _I'm going to fuck you now," he whispers in my ear. "I hope you're ready—"_

"Miss Swan."

Mr. Cullen's loud voice startles me as his hand suddenly snatches my phone off my desk. I stare up at his face as his eyes scan the screen, and I swear I see them darken slightly. "Not exactly great literature."

"N-no, Sir," I whisper.

"You may have this back after class." Turning and walking away, he sets my phone down on the corner of his desk, resuming class by asking Tyler a question.

Oh my God… how much of that did he read? Does he realize the parallel to real life? I mean, I haven't drawn little hearts on my notebook since like seventh grade, but still. I can feel my face flaming in embarrassment, just thinking about what he's going to say to me after class. I can't imagine that he'll just hand my phone back without a word.

I spend the rest of the class just staring at the clock, growing more nervous by the second as I think about what I might have to face when class ends. When the bell does finally ring, I nearly jump out of my skin.

Slowly I pack up my things and stand, taking a deep breath as I attempt to calm my racing heart. As I approach the front of the classroom, I move like a condemned woman walking toward the gallows. Mr. Cullen is perched on the corner of his desk, just watching me as I take one step after another closer to him.

Swallowing thickly, I force myself to make eye contact. "M-may I have my phone back… please?"

He picks up my phone, holding it out to me with his right hand. As I reach for it, he suddenly pulls it back out of my reach.

"I'm disappointed in you, Miss Swan."

"Y-yes, Sir," I whisper, staring down at my feet. I feel about five inches tall.

"Reading… _that_ instead of paying attention to the class?" he spits in what sounds an awful lot like disgust.

"I've already read _Wuthering Heights_ several times," I protest, hoping to keep the conversation far away from what I was actually reading.

"Irrelevant. Your behavior today showed a stunning lack of respect for me and your fellow classmates."

"It won't happen again, Mr. Cullen," I reply automatically.

"Good," he nods. "It had better not, or I'll be collecting your phone at the start of each class. You may leave."

Nodding, I take my phone from his outstretched hand, nearly running out of the classroom. Once I've reached the hallway, I let out the breath I'd been holding, then hurriedly head to the cafeteria to join my friends.

"Swan!" Tyler calls as I near the table. "At least you're still in one piece."

"Yeah," I chuckle, sitting down with a plop. I pick up my slice of pizza and take a large bite.

"How bad was it?" Angela asks kindly.

I shrug, quickly swallowing. "I got a lecture on respect. It definitely could've been worse."

Understatement.

* * *

For the next several weeks, I can't look Mr. Cullen in the eye. I still don't know how much he read in those few seconds that he scanned the small screen of my iPhone. Enough to realize that it wasn't "great literature," but was it enough to understand my crush on him? Do I even _want_ him to understand?

A part of me does want him to notice my crush, but only if he's interested in me as well. But that's stupid. Mr. Cullen must be 27 or 28 years old — what would he want with a high school senior? Not to mention the fact that relationships between teachers and students are strictly forbidden.

Perhaps he'd be interested in starting a relationship after I graduate. My first choice for a college next year is the University of Illinois, a couple of hours away in Champaign; maybe he could get a job teaching there. Oh, but I'd probably end up in his class again, so that would suck.

It's not like I'm hideous or anything. Since I got past the awkward stage with braces, I've been told I'm pretty… by my father. But then he probably has to say that. Mr. Cullen _did_ say my dress was pretty. For just a few seconds at the homecoming dance, I felt like he may have returned at least some of my attraction. No, it _could_ work, I tell myself.

Yeah, in my dreams.

* * *

The vast majority of students dress up in our Halloween costumes on the last Friday in October. For the past several years, I've dressed as a character from classic literature. It's sort of my thing. This year, I've chosen Daisy from _The Great Gatsby_ , which is on our reading list for next semester. I

purchased a silver 1920s style dress from a thrift store, along with a sparkly headband to hold my long hair off of my face.

Taking my seat in Mr. Cullen's class, I'm disappointed to see that he's not in costume, as most of the teachers are. I should've expected as much.

When he steps out from behind his desk to begin today's discussion, my eyes widen. He's wearing them again — the blue pants that seem to show off the considerable size of his dick better than any other pair he owns. I find myself involuntarily licking my lips as I stare at his crotch, thinking of the blow job scene in the latest Delena chapter posted a couple of days ago. I'm not sure I could deep throat that monster though.

"Miss Swan." I jump, startled as Mr. Cullen pounds his fist on my desk. "I asked you a question."

He did? Shit… "C-could you repeat the question?"

"I asked you about the theme of the story," he repeats slowly, enunciating each word.

"The theme?" I squeak. My mind is mush right now… and still in his pants. What the fuck is a theme?

"Yes, the theme. _Jude the Obscure_ is so much more than just a soap opera. Miss Weber, care to help your friend out?"

Oh thank God, he's moved on to Angela. I stare down at my desk, wishing I had my usual curtain of hair to hide behind so he can't see the redness that I'm sure covers my face. I just hope he doesn't realize what I was staring at.

When the bell rings, I hurriedly put away my things, hoping to make a quick exit from the room. But alas, it's not to be.

"Miss Swan, please stick around for a few moments." Shit, another lecture on paying attention?

I walk toward Mr. Cullen's desk, giving a small smile to Angela as she passes me on her way out the door. He seems to look me up and down, similar to how he'd looked at me the night of homecoming. Once the last student has left, he walks over and closes the door. My brow furrows as he appears to lock it as well. What the hell?

Stepping away from the door, he pauses just a foot or so in front of me, looking at me expectantly.

"W-was there something you needed, Mr. Cullen?" I ask tentatively.

He shakes his head, making me even more confused. "It's not about _me_ ; it's about what _you_ want."

"Me?" I cringe as my voice seems to rise an octave.

Suddenly he reaches out to grab my right hand, placing it firmly against the impressive bulge in his pants. What. The. Fuck.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, almost seeming to taunt me. He directs my hand up and down, so that the heel of it presses against the… very… long… length of his dick. Holy shit! On the second pass, it seems to grow even longer.

"Answer me. Is this what you wanted?"

"Y-yes," I manage to reply. Oh my God, what is happening? Does this mean he feels the same attraction that I do? My head is almost spinning as I continue to caress his dick through his pants.

I yelp when he suddenly reaches out with his other hand to tweak my left nipple through the thin fabric of my dress. It hardens instantly under his ministrations, and I start to feel this _want_ between my legs.

"Still what you want?" he asks, staring into my eyes. I barely manage a nod.

In a flash, Mr. Cullen's hands retreat and he's down on his knees before me. My eyes widen as he reaches beneath my dress with both hands, grasping the sides of my underwear. My mouth hangs open in shock as he tugs them down.

He raises one eyebrow and I follow his unspoken command, stepping out of my pale pink panties.

"A _thong_ , Miss Swan?" he taunts, stuffing them into the right front pocket of his pants.

I shrug helplessly as he gets to his feet; sue me, I didn't want VPL.

"Still want this?" he asks. I nod again. "Say it. Out loud."

"Yes," I whisper. "I want this," I add a little louder, eagerly anticipating whatever is coming next. All of my fantasies could come true!

"Ohhhhh…" I moan as he presses his fingers between my legs.

"Yes… you really do want this." He sounds almost awed as he begins sliding his fingers back and forth through the growing wetness. My breath hitches as one of his fingers makes its way inside me, moving in and out very slowly. I've touched myself before — while imagining it was his fingers — but it's never ever felt anything like this.

I idly wonder if I should be doing something… should I put my hand back on his dick? Before I have a chance to ask, he pulls his hand away from me.

"Open my pants," he orders, his bossiness causing another flood between my thighs.

Dropping my backpack to the floor, I reach out with shaking hands. After unbuckling his belt, I open the button on his slacks and slide the zipper down. When I'm finished, I keep my hand on his crotch, looking up at him for my next instruction.

"Now take out what you want."

Taking a deep breath, I fumble around for the hole in his boxers, sliding my fingers inside once I've found it. I wrap one fist around the warm skin of his dick, then carefully pull it through the hole.

"Oh fuck…" I mumble under my breath. Hard as a rock, it's even bigger than it seemed through his pants. Hell, my fingers don't even fit all the way around his dick! I slowly move my hand from base to tip, marveling at the imposing length — at least nine inches by my estimation. It's nearly as long as one of my feet. How could that thing ever fit inside _any_ woman?

I find a small bead of moisture at the tip, spreading it around with my thumb as I slowly jack him off. Looking up at his face, he doesn't seem the slightest bit affected by what I'm doing.

"As good as you imagined?" he asks, his eyes smirking at me. Assuming that's a rhetorical question, I don't answer him — my awe must be pretty obvious.

"Now, I believe you wanted to be bent over a desk." He tilts his head toward his large wooden desk, but I stand motionless, staring at it.

Mr. Cullen is actually offering to fuck me! He not only read the passage from the Delena fic, but he

clearly understood the implications. My mind is too muddled to figure out what this means, beyond the fact that I can lose my virginity to the Biggest Dick Ever.

Oh… oh dear… should I warn him that I'm a virgin? He'll likely be more gentle then. Or will that little bit of info put an end to… whatever this is?

"If you don't want this, just say so."

I look up at Mr. Cullen to find him watching me warily, and then I slowly take a couple of steps forward until I'm nearly pressed up against the desk. With a deep breath, I bend forward until my chest is lying on top of it.

I'm aware that my dress is being lifted very slowly, until I'm sure that my bottom half is completely exposed to him. I wonder if he likes what he sees; it's not like I have the most curvaceous backside in school.

When I feel what must be the rounded head of his dick sliding along my lower lips, I close my eyes and take one more deep breath, holding it in. There is no way with a dick this size that this isn't going to hurt, but I can't let him know that it's my first time or I'll risk him stopping.

Once he starts to press inside, I grip the edge of his desk with my right hand, trying not to bite a hole in my lip. I can feel him stretching me, which is strange at first before turning downright painful. Oh my God… how much further inside can he go?

I let out the breath I've been holding when he finally, finally begins to retreat, then can't hold in a yelp when he pushes back inside much harder and faster… and even deeper than the first time! Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I try to stay quiet as he builds up a rhythm, my hips bumping against the desk with each thrust.

At some point, the pain gives way to an intense pleasure. I can feel every inch of his big thick dick as he pumps in and out, his hands gripping my ass tightly. I wonder if he'll actually make me come. I mean, pretty much every girl I know says she didn't come her first time, but then their male partners were usually inexperienced teenagers and not a man with a huge dick.

The room is quiet except for the sounds of my heavy breaths and moans and his hips slapping against mine. He doesn't even appear to be breathing hard. I wonder how long he can keep this up? Does a big dick give a man more stamina, too?

"Shhhh…" he cautions after one particularly load moan. I sound like a freakin' porn star and I'm totally embarrassed, but it's so fucking good that I can't help myself. This is much better than I'd ever imagined it could be.

"Fuck," he grunts, a break in his perfect control. His thrusts are becoming erratic now. Just when I think I might actually orgasm, he freezes, buried so far inside me that I feel like he's touching my throat. He groans loudly, then with one last squeeze of my ass cheeks, his dick is gone.

As I try to slow my breathing, I hear the sound of his zipper. I want to stand up and face him, but I've just been fucked within an inch of my life by the Biggest Dick Ever and can't bring myself to move.

"Make sure there's no evidence left behind when you leave."

I lift my head just as I hear the sound of the classroom door closing. What the actual fuck? He fucked me and then just left? My God, I knew he was a dick, but really?

Bracing my hands on the desk, I stand up straight, cringing at the feeling of his jizz leaking out of me.

I can't believe he came inside me without asking! He has no idea whether or not I'm on birth control! I mean, yeah, I've been taking the Pill for almost three years to make my monthly cycle bearable, but he has no way of knowing that.

I look around for a moment before realizing that Mr. Cullen ran off with my panties! I hurriedly reach down to pick up my backpack, then start walking toward the door. Owww! There's a strange soreness between my legs. I can't afford to wait around much longer though; I've got to get cleaned up before his jizz runs down my leg far enough to be visible beneath my dress.

Carefully, I make my way into the hallway and to the nearest girls' bathroom. I dart into a stall and grab a large handful of toilet paper so that I can clean up. I can see a trace of blood from my lost virginity and wonder if Mr. Cullen noticed it on his dick. How embarrassing would _that_ be?

Once I've used the bathroom, I wash my hands, splash some water on my flushed face, and run my fingers through my hair. When I look presentable enough, I start heading toward the cafeteria. Nodding to the lunch lady, I pick up just an apple, afraid that I won't be able to eat any more than that.

"There you are!" Angela calls as I sluggishly near the table. "I was starting to get worried."

"Are you all right?" Lauren asks, looking at me strangely. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you look freshly fucked."

I chuckle nervously. "I'm fine," I lie. "Just got another lecture then took a walk to clear my head."

"Ae you sure you're OK?" Tyler asks, sounding concerned. I frown; I'd thought I didn't look half bad.

"Yeah," I breathe out. "I'm great." I just need some time to process.

* * *

Later that night, I lock myself in my room and stare at myself in the mirror. I lost my virginity today. To my _teacher_. It's absolutely what I wanted, but now what? Are we going to continue this… whatever _this_ is… in secret for the rest of the school year? I turned 18 last month, but it's still forbidden for teachers to be involved with their students. I don't graduate for another seven months!

The weekend seems to drag on and on, since I'm anxious to see Mr. Cullen again. We should've at least exchanged numbers or something, but he left the room far too quickly.

When it's finally time for my fourth period class on Monday morning, I try hard to control my excitement. Stepping into the classroom, I spot him seated at his desk, writing something in a notebook and looking hotter than ever. I wait for him to look up and acknowledge me, but he never does.

And once class begins, he _still_ won't look at me. It's like last Friday never happened. Throughout the entire class, he never looks my way or calls on me once. After the end of class bell has rung, I think about sticking around to talk to him, only to decide that that would seem too suspicious.

The rest of the week goes by the same way, with no acknowledgement from Mr. Cullen that anything happened between us. It's almost like I'd dreamt it all, except that I _know_ something happened. Yes, I knew the man was a dick, but how could he do this to me? How could the most important event of my life have meant nothing at all to him? I feel almost used, though I'd wanted and enjoyed everything we did.

Our final essay on _Jude the Obscure_ is due on Friday, but with my current state of mind, I'm having a tough time writing anything that I'm happy with. I finally finish it just before midnight on Thursday night.

As I leave my essay on Mr. Cullen's desk the next day, I will him to look up and acknowledge me, but he doesn't. Sighing, I take my seat, vowing not to let him get to me.

After a long weekend and two more days of the same avoidance behavior, Mr. Cullen returns our essays at the start of Wednesday's class. At least he'll be forced to address me directly for the first time in nearly two weeks.

"Miss Swan. Not up to your usual standards," he says, setting the paper on my desk. I glance at the top right corner — B-minus! I've never gotten a grade so low on an essay before. I can feel my face turning bright red, though more from anger than embarrassment. How dare he treat me like this!

"You go on ahead," I tell Angela when class is over. "I want to speak to Mr. Cullen for a moment."

Once everyone else has left, I walk up to where he's again perched on the edge of his desk.

"Is something wrong, Miss Swan?" he asks, crossing his arms in front of himself.

"I—"

"You didn't expect special treatment, did you?"

My eyes widen as I stare at him, tears beginning to threaten thanks to his cold behavior. Before he can see me cry, I rush out of the room. My feelings turn to anger again as I make my way to the cafeteria. By the time I've paid for my meal, I'm boiling mad.

I try not to slam down my tray once I've reached our lunch table. My friends all heard his comment, so they know I probably didn't score an A this time, but they don't know that anything else is wrong. And I can't let them know.

"Geez, Bella, what grade did you get?" Mike asks before I can even say hello.

"A B-minus," I reply angrily.

"Hell, I'd give my left nut for a B-minus from Cullen," he replies… jokingly, I think.

"He could've returned your essay without the commentary," Angela says, patting my shoulder.

Tyler scoffs. "He wouldn't be Cullen if he did that."

"I think he just needs to get laid," Lauren pipes up. I glare at her before I can stop myself.

"It's just… I had a rough week last week," I lament. "And now it's immortalized forever." God, my emotions are all over the place and I sense tears threatening again.

Angela wraps an arm around my back, squeezing me in a gentle hug. "I'm sure you'll still get an A in the class," she says helpfully. Little does she know that the grade is the least of my worries right now.

"Thanks, Ang." I smile gratefully at her attempt to cheer me up.

"There's the man now," Tyler says scornfully, looking over my shoulder. I turn around to see Mr. Cullen standing up from another table and staring over at us.

* * *

The following day we're greeted by a pop quiz in English, eliciting a collective groan from the entire class. I feel like I do well on it though. I'm moving past the anger and betrayal and am now mostly numb.

By Friday's class, our quizzes are already graded and returned to us. Mr. Cullen is in rare form with the put-downs; it seems like most of the class did poorly.

"Miss Swan." I wait for the insult, only it never comes. A-minus. I'll take that. Stuffing the papers into my notebook, I try to concentrate on today's lesson.

When I get home from school, I take out my books to start on my homework. As I open my notebook to review my English notes, the quiz falls out. I pick it up to set it aside, then notice something yellow barely visible through the paper.

Confused, I lift the first page to see a yellow Post-It note stuck to the second page.

 **Lincoln Monument, 4pm**

Glancing at the time on my phone, I see that it's 3:55. Shit! I'm assuming that the note means Mr. Cullen wants me to meet him at the monument in Lincoln Park, but I'll never make it there in the next five minutes! What if he thinks I'm no longer interested?

I hurry down the stairs, grabbing my car keys so that I can drive to the park. I probably break a few traffic rules along the way. Parking in the lot for the history museum, I head straight for the monument. I'm late and I don't know what the chances are that he'll still be there waiting for me.

I breathe a sigh of relief when he comes into view, seated at a bench near the monument.

"I'm sorry," I call between my heavy breaths, "I just now saw your note."

Standing, he shoves his hands into his coat pockets as he takes a step forward, watching me carefully. "What do you want, Miss Swan?"

That brings me up short. "What? You asked me to meet you here."

"What do you _want_ , Miss Swan?" he repeats.

I stare at him in confusion for several moments while I think about how to answer him. What _do_ I want?

"I… I want you to stop acting like such a dick!" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"You earned that grade, Miss Swan. You're one of my most talented students, but your last essay was not up to your usual standards."

"I don't care about the fucking grade!" I scream in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you can't even look me in the eye! I gave you my virginity and you act like nothing happened!"

Mr. Cullen stares at me in horror for several moments before taking his right hand out of his pocket and raking it through his hair. "I can't pay you any special attention in school, Bella," he says tiredly, using my first name for what is likely the first time ever. "How would that look to the rest of your classmates?"

He's right; of course he is. Everyone in school is used to him acting like a dick. If he suddenly started treating me like a human being, my reputation and his _job_ could be on the line.

"I-I'm sorry," I whisper.

Nodding, he gives me a small smile. "Anything else you want, Miss Swan?"

Startled by the repeated question, I remain silent as he steps closer to me and rests his hands on my hips. "I won't take advantage of my position and push you into anything. You need to tell me exactly what you want."

Looking up at him, I see what I hope is a tiny hint of vulnerability, a crack in his mask, and it spurs me on to tell him the truth.

"I want to get to know you better," I finally reply. "S-starting with your lips."

Giving me a little smirk, Mr. Cullen leans in closer until I can feel his breath on my ear. "Where do you want them?" he asks in a husky voice that says I could have the world if I asked for it.

Instead of answering him, I turn my head slightly, until my lips are mere millimeters from his mouth. And then I press my lips against his, sucking gently at his top lip. When he pulls me closer, I open my mouth, inviting him in.

Standing on my tiptoes, I throw my arms around his neck, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and it's perfect. It's everything I could've asked for in our first kiss. His tongue tangles with mine, his lips pull and retreat. And I can feel the Biggest Dick Ever making his presence known against my hip.

When he pulls his mouth away slightly, I almost want to chase it down and continue the kiss. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. _This_ is where we should've started, instead of with my fantasy to be fucked over his desk. But we've got another chance now to do things right.

* * *

Unfortunately, I can't stay long after our first kiss; I need to get home and start dinner for my dad. At least we have a chance to exchange cell numbers so that Mr. Cullen doesn't need to leave me Post-It notes on surprise quizzes in order to communicate stealthily.

We send each other a few brief texts over the next week, but we're unable to find a time to meet up where it won't arouse suspicion. Mr. Cullen suggests the following Friday night, but it's our last football game of the season. Though I almost never attend the games, I promised the girls I'd go with them to cheer on our team. Mike is the star running back, while Tyler is a defensive end, and this will be their last ever time in uniform at home.

My dad has tried and failed over the years at getting me to understand football. As we sit in our seats near the… 20-yard-line, someone enlightens me, Angela patiently tries to explain what is happening, but I'm lost.

"Why do they call it _foot_ ball if they just throw the ball?" I wonder aloud, making Jessica laugh.

"They kick field goals and extra points," she clarifies. "Wait and see."

At halftime, the Lincoln Park Lions are up 17-7 — and they did indeed kick the ball a handful of times. Instead of remaining in our seats, we get up to order drinks and snacks from the snack bar. While I'm waiting for my Coke, Jessica calls out, "Hey, Mr. Cullen!"

I turn around automatically, my eyes widening as I spot him… with his arm around a gorgeous blonde woman. What the actual fuck? He has a girlfriend and didn't think it was important to tell me?

"Good evening," he says, nodding toward us. "Tanya, these are some of my students. Girls, this is my wife, Tanya."


End file.
